


Last Goodbyes

by straylize



Category: Persona 3, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Persona 3 Spoilers, Persona 5 Spoilers, everything hurts all the time, pegokita, why did i do this to myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straylize/pseuds/straylize
Summary: Persona 5 Bad Ending centric; Minato and the Phantom Thieves are forced to deal with the consequences of Akira's reckless actions, a plan gone awry, and feelings that were left unspoken.





	Last Goodbyes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Persona 5 [Bad End]](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/386109) by NemiruTami. 



“It’s too reckless.”

The words slipped from Minato’s lips quietly, but his tone was firm. In some way, it seemed to betray the gentle nature of the atmosphere that surrounded him—Akira’s quiet attic room was old and musty; even when it was clean, it seemed like there was always a layer of dust that coated even items that had just been placed down only moments earlier. At its most well-lit, it was still dim, and served as a solid reminder that despite Akira’s often easygoing nature and penchant for dramatics, that his life was less than ideal in many ways. Yet still, night after night, instead of going home to his own cushy apartment, he would remain in Akira’s care. Much like they were in that moment, with Minato’s head resting in Akira’s lap, and dexterous fingers lightly stroking his hair.

In a sense, it was always soothing. It was warm and gentle, and in some way, Minato found it to be more like _home_ than his own because of the aura that Akira put forth. He was so many things to so many people, but at the end of the day, Minato saw him as a kind, warm person who deserved more than what life had done to him. He didn’t deserve to have the reputation he did, and rather than viewing him as someone prone to violence because of a simple assault chare, he only saw Akira’s staunch sense of justice and belief in using a bit of grey morality to help people, to prevent them from ending up the same situations he had. It was admirable, to be sure, but it wasn’t without faults.

Akira Kurusu, after all, was nothing short of a reckless person when it came to carrying out his justice.

The present conversation had been a prime example of that fact; Akira was never going to concede easily to what people expected of him. As they sat comfortably in the same position they often did, another of his reckless plans had come to light. Minato appreciated, of course, that Akira was so transparent with him—in what the Phantom Thieves were planning in order to catch Akechi in his plans of betrayal and get to the bottom of their plummeting reputation, and that he didn’t seem to want to keep Minato in the dark about it. That was as far as his pleasure with the situation stretched, though. The plan was foolish—even one error in judgment could land Akira in prison. Or worse—dead. Even if Minato supposed the latter was a little less likely, it wasn’t a risk they should take.

Or, at the very least, it was one Minato didn’t _want_ him to take. Minato had already seen the best and worst in humanity, and he’d already known what it was like to face death head on. That sort of thing was what Minato had fought so hard for—so that people like Akira wouldn’t have to do just that. And though the stakes seemed much lower than what he’d faced, that didn’t mean Akira needed to look death in the eye with that cocky smirk of his and try to defy it, either. There were likely other options, other approaches, other ways to draw Akechi out without walking right into the dragon's den, he was sure That was exactly why his expression darkened a little, brows drawn together as he opened his eyes and looked worriedly to Akira. It was almost astounding how calmly Akira explained it all while carrying out those comfortable soothing gestures—but even those gestures could never be enough to ease those quiet concerns that Minato held for him.

“We don’t have any other options right now,” Akira’s tone was soft as well, meant to soothe as much as his actions did. It wasn’t that he didn’t know that Minato was rightfully concerned about their plan; he really just didn’t want Minato to worry needlessly about him. A trait they both shared, that they had in spades, was their compassion for others. Even in their most selfish moments, they often put everyone before themselves, and that included one another as well. If Minato spent too much time being worried, Akira was more than aware that he wouldn’t be able to focus on achieving the Phantom Thieves’ goals properly. So this is what he needed to do. All of their other ideas and plans seemed to fall short of the mark they needed to hit; it needed to be something big in order to make the right impact, after all.

Regardless of his own feelings, regardless of any latent fear or concern that existed in his heart for their plan, Akira needed to make sure he could ease Minato’s worries.

“I trust them to help me with it,” he added softly as he brushed a few stray strands of hair from Minato’s eyes. His lips curved upward into a soft smile, warm and reassuring—they bore a confidence that only Akira seemed capable of carrying, and much as Minato didn’t want to admit it to even himself, he trusted that confidence as much as Akira himself trusted his comrades. That was one of those uncanny things about Akira; he was the sort who tried to keep promises as much as Minato did, and he was reliable. He didn’t like to commit to things that he didn’t think he’d be able to see through… and even when he faltered or seemed a bit unsure of how to proceed, he did so with his head held high and the belief that he would succeed.

It still left a pit of dread in Minato’s core, but he knew he couldn’t argue it. He’d always made it a point to support Akira in his escapades as a Phantom Thief; it was his _journey_ , not Minato’s. He needed to lead his team to the best of his ability, and if he wasn’t asking for advice, Minato didn’t have it in him to dictate what was best for a team that wasn’t his own. What worked for S.E.E.S. didn’t necessarily work for the Phantom Thieves, and Minato knew it best to let it go. He needed to trust Akira.

He had to ignore that instinct, despite the knowledge that trusting his gut had never before led him astray.

So instead, Minato reached up to cup Akira’s cheek in his hand; there was some vague effort to even out the worry from his expression, but Akira could still see it, plain as day. Even with Minato’s effort, even with the cool touch of his hand, something persisted that had to be ignored, because Minato himself wasn’t addressing it verbally either.

“You’re an idiot,” Minato offered with a soft sigh. It wasn’t much of an argument so much as a statement of truth. Akira was absolutely a reckless idiot. He hated every last bit of this plan, but there wasn’t anything he could _argue_ about it, either.

“No,” the refusal was gentle, playful as Akira smiled a little wider and leaned into that touch that Minato offered him. “I’m a Fool.”

The other thing Minato couldn’t deny was that Akira was a punk smartass when he wanted to be. The softness of his touch shifted to a harsher grip; he squeezed Akira’s cheek with the sort of intensity meant to be a mild scolding for that show of defiance.

“Nobody said you can’t be both,” He couldn’t deny Akira’s arcana and how he embodied it; it was still very much so the Fool's Journey, after all. But he still thought the plan they’d come up with was reckless and dangerous, even if he had to concede completely to it. He loosened his grip to cup Akira’s cheek once more as he closed his eyes and sighed once again, this time softer. “I’m not going to try and stop you.”

Minato was met with silence, and even without opening his eyes, he could picture the look of surprise on Akira’s face. So quietly, he continued his thought. “I don’t like it. I don’t want you to do something so reckless without a backup plan. But this is your life, and your team. I won’t tell you what the best choice is for you.”

For a long after moment, Minato fell silent once more, as if to gather his thoughts. His eyes fluttered open—and as expected, he was met with that endearing expression of surprise Akira so often displayed at times like this.  He didn’t let it linger too long, though, before continuing the thought Akira needed to hear—and Minato needed to say, even if only to convince himself of this truth. “My journey… My choice was to give everyone a future where they _had_ choices. That means it's your right, Akira.”

“Minato…” he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Akira remained silent for a long moment before Minato shifted to tug him down a bit. He lifted his own head to meet Akira’s lips in a kiss meant to be a reassurance of his very own.

“What I want doesn’t matter. Do what you have to for your team.”

Even if it was something of a simple sentiment, Akira didn’t entirely buy it. Sure, it was pretty typical of Minato—their tendency to put others before themselves meant that it wasn’t surprising. But the disconnect between Minato's words and actions from the look on his face made it a bit harder to swallow. Regardless of how much Minato may have hated it, it was their only recourse. If they were going to stop Akechi’s plan and get to the bottom of things, they would have to carry forth. Yet still, Akira felt a need to argue it just a bit—that he would prefer Minato to be more honest, or maybe a bit more selfish. What Minato wanted _did_ matter, and Akira didn’t want him to believe otherwise; he may not have been able to change his approach, but that didn’t mean Akira wanted to let Minato believe that those feelings weren’t considered. Before he could open his mouth to raise that argument, though, Minato emitted a stifled yawn.

He thought that maybe the argument would be best saved for another time.

“Maybe we both need to sleep on it more,” Akira responded with a quiet sigh. In truth, he knew that he wouldn’t actually change his mind, but perhaps a bit of time and distance could ease some of the quiet, unspoken tension that came from their different perspectives on the matter. “I’ll walk you to the station.”

Rather than quietly agree and sit up properly, Minato hunkered down. He turned on his side, burying one side of his face into Akira’s thighs; another yawn came, though this one he didn’t bother to stifle.

“I’m staying here tonight,” though tired, Minato’s words came out firmly. He wouldn’t be leaving. He wouldn’t be going home to a cold, empty apartment. He would stay with Akira—likely, he would stay with Akira every night he could. It was a sentiment that went unspoken, but Minato’s worries didn’t always manifest in obvious ways, and that meant the way he dealt with easing those worries was just as subtle.

Not that Akira needed Minato to say it. The intent behind those few words came through loud and clear and Akira could only sigh and offer a soft smile as he stroked Minato’s hair gently. “Okay. Stay here with me tonight, then.”  


 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every day in those few weeks leading to Akira’s intentional capture had been pretty high-stress. Minato had made it a point to be at Leblanc on the nights that the Phantom Thieves explored Sae’s Palace; his knowledge in how draining fighting Shadows could be absolutely left him wanting to at least help in what ways he could. So those were the nights he arrived early and prepared simple, nutritious meals for Akira to eat while recuperating. He was more than aware, after all, that Akira wouldn’t eat any more than leftover curry if left to his own devices.

So that way, if nothing else, he’d been able to give Akira that much help. Meals that were simple—katsudon, grilled fish, nikujaga—warm, comfortable foods that Akira enjoyed and Minato had no trouble preparing. Those nights would end with watching a movie together or reading a book until Akira fell asleep. The nights when Akira was tired from the Metaverse were always the rare ones where Minato stayed up a bit later, both because he was the less sleepy one for once, and because he wanted to ensure Akira would rest properly. Every gesture had been simple, but laced with quiet concern and a need to take care of Akira.

Akira never took care of himself, after all. Though he took care of everyone around him—his teammates, his friends, his confidants, and Minato—he always put himself last. And because his friends relied on Akira to take care of them, they often weren’t as good at doing the same in return. It wasn’t something Minato ever faulted them for; even S.E.E.S. had been similar back when they were dealing with similar circumstances. But it meant that someone needed to take care of Akira, and Minato had no qualms at all with taking up that mantle himself. It gave him a quiet sense of purpose in a journey that wasn’t his own, and while just a little… it served to ease some of the worries that Akira was carrying too heavy a burden on his shoulders.

The night before the plan would be carried out was the hardest night of them all for Minato. For all that he’d tried to ease that twisted feeling that pitted in his core; it wouldn’t subside at all. He wondered, when had been the last time he felt that way? Had it been the night before he had to deliver his decision to Ryoji? Had it been the night before they were to face their ‘impossible’ battle with Nyx? He couldn’t remember specifically, fogged by negative sentiments that were creeping in. What Minato knew, though, was that he couldn’t shake it. And though Akira could feel his tension, Minato kept the feelings to himself, never leaving an opportunity open to actually talk about it. He encouraged Akira, he assured him that he was trusted, that he wouldn’t fail because he wasn’t the sort of person to give in so easily under dire circumstances.

But once Akira had succumbed to sleep, Minato was left awake; sleep absolutely refused to come. It was a rare occurrence, but being as concerned as he was, the anxiety that had built up kept him from sleep. Instead, he held Akira close to him; he buried his face against his chest and breathed in his familiar scent. Minato chose to embrace everything that Akira was at that moment as he slept soundly. Akira remained none the wiser to Minato’s feelings, to the depth of his doubts and his worries, or the feeling of anxiety it would left him with.

That was okay, though, as far as Minato was concerned. He preferred it that way; he could do the worrying on his own time, and when Akira came back safe and sound, he could admit that he was a fool for worrying so much.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

By the time he realized he had made a mistake, it was too late.

The drugs they’d injected had completely toyed with his judgment. Everything about their plan had been thrown into disarray thanks to a variable that not a single one of them could have ever planned for. The words had spilled from his mouth more recklessly than how he had gotten himself intentionally caught, and rather than follow his plan…

He’d said too much. He couldn’t follow what they'd decided on because he couldn’t even _remember_ his plan. He couldn’t seem to convince Sae, he couldn’t hand his phone off properly—not a single thing that he should have been able to do got done, solely because his mind was too fogged to remember all of the details.

So when that familiar, smug face appeared before him, there was little more than panic that rose up in him. The memory of his plan began came to light as the barrel of the gun was pointed at his head. There wasn’t time to reconcile anything, even as he listened to those words to remind him that he had failed. And before he could move—

All he could think of was the look of worry that existed on Minato’s face that night he had shared their plan before he was left bloody and lifeless from the bullet shot right into his head.  


 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Something snapped, and snapped very suddenly.

In the late afternoon of November 21st, Minato sat in one of Leblanc’s booths. On one side of him sat Junpei; on the other, Ann. Across from him were Yusuke, Yukari and Aigis. Ryuji sat at the counter, back turned to it so he could face them, while Futaba, Makoto, Morgana and Haru remained at the Sakura household to monitor the situation from their end. The conversation was casual, with everyone trying to keep their mind off of the anticipation and concern they had for Akira’s well-being. They’d expected to have heard from him by this point, but with nothing but silence, it was a bit nerve-wracking for everyone involved.

So the conversation was meant to distract, but did only a moderate job of doing so. Minato had been quieter than usual as it was, but that sudden _snap_ in his mind completely took him from whatever idle topic they had jumped to.

He’d felt something similar before; back then, back when he was forming so many bonds with the people of Iwatodai. Minato could distinctly recall a time when he got so caught up in his struggles with the Dark Hour, with Shinjiro’s fate and the aftermath, and trying to assist in keeping S.E.E.S. on his feet that he had ignored calls and texts from Yuko for _weeks._ She was so angry at him that he could feel the strain of their bond; he had to tread carefully to ensure that it wouldn’t end up breaking. What he felt in that moment was similar, only much, _much_ worse.

 _The World._ The World arcana, the one that he associated so clearly with Akira had just completely shattered. He could feel it in his mind, in his chest; the link between them had severed abruptly in a way that was almost physically painful to him. Minato could barely process what he was feeling, nor did he realize that all of the color had drained from his face as he brought a hand up to clutch tightly as his chest.

_Akira…_

“...Minato? Hey, what wrong? You’re looking a little pale. Are you feeling okay?” Yukari’s voice cut through the muffled ringing in his ears. He looked up at her, but in place of his normally placid expression was that of what looked to be fear. He definitely _wasn’t_ feeling okay, and he couldn’t even start to give her an assuring response as he normally would have.

“Something…” he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, as if he would choke on them if he tried to say them too fast. “Something’s wrong. With Akira.”

Everyone’s eyes went wide at Minato’s sudden declaration. It seemed to come from nowhere, but all the same, none of them really could deny Minato’s intuition about these things. He was a leader too, after all, even if not of the Phantom Thieves.

“Wh-Come on, stop messin’ with us, Minato-san!” Ryuji was the first to protest; he even let out a weak laugh, as if to try and convince himself and everyone else that Minato was just worrying needlessly—that they were just being messed with.

“Seriously, dude. You heard the other chickas, right? They said the interrogation could take a while.” Junpei chimed in, light-hearted. He knew that Minato wouldn’t say anything like that if he didn’t have a serious hunch, but he also knew that worrying Ann and Ryuji especially wouldn’t help them at all, either.

“First of all,” Ann reached behind Minato’s head to give Junpei’s a light shove. “They’re not _chickas._ And second… Arisato-san, shouldn’t you have a little more faith in Akira?”

Yusuke nodded his head as he brought a hand to his chin; he was silent for a moment, thoughtful before offering his own opinion on the matter. "I believe Ann is correct. Why, I could just imagine that Akira is simply waiting to have the last laugh as we speak.”

The quiet assurances were unconvincing to Minato, though. He looked to Ann, Ryuji and Yusuke, gaze shifting among them before shaking his head.

“You’re not paying attention,” he choked out in response. “Try to feel it, your bond with him.”

Minato was aware that they wouldn’t be able to feel it as keenly as he could. Social Links and Confidants were something bestowed specifically upon the Wild Cards by Igor; still, Minato knew that they had forged bonds with Akira that couldn’t be broken by any normal means. Even if they weren’t aware of the intricacies, the connection existed. Junpei and Yukari exchanged glances—they were very much so aware of the feeling, having lost Shinjiro and even Minato himself for a time. Silence fell over the café, the elder Persona users not wanting to be the ones to say what they suspected Minato already felt, and the younger being wholly unaware of just what it was Minato was getting at.

It was Aigis who eventually broke the silence, by way of reaching across the table to put her palm over Minato’s forehead.

“Internal body temperature: 37.5 degrees Celsius. Current heart rate: 115 beats per minute. Other symptoms: loss of color in complexion, shortness of breath, perspiration,” if nothing else, Aigis was incredibly consistent in her promise to look after Minato. Though he didn’t exactly need his vital signs read aloud for everyone around them, he also didn’t draw back at her cool, metallic touch, which only lingered as long as was needed for her to make an assessment. “If Minato-san is feeling this anxious, I have reason to believe that he isn’t lying about Akira-san’s state of being.”

It certainly hadn’t been intentional for Aigis to stir the pot a bit more; her straightforward nature could come off as insensitive at times, even if time and experience had done her a world of good when it came to understanding people and their feelings.

“All right, that’s enough for now,” the declaration came firmly from Yukari, who moved to stand and pull Aigis out from the booth with her. “Aigis and Minato are coming outside for some fresh air with me. Let’s take five and cool our heads.”

Ann nodded her head as she tugged a bit at the hair on one side of her twintails; she shifted to let Minato stand. “Yuka-tan’s got the right idea, let’s go—”

“No way, you’re staying _right here_ ,” this time it was Ann that was firm, sitting back in the booth once Minato had shakily pulled himself to his feet.

“No kiddin’. One of you’s gotta stay behind to explain those looks you were givin’ each other.”

Ryuji’s voice seemed to hardline; if even he caught the looks that Junpei and Yukari exchanged, there was no getting out of the explaining that needed to be done. With a heavy, exasperated sigh, Junpei conceded. “Aw, man. Two-hit KO from the kiddos…”

Junpei didn’t mind half as much as his response seemed to imply; all of it was solely to try and ease everyone’s concerns when he had no way of knowing for sure if Minato’s intuition was correct. He couldn’t sense anything for himself; though he was on good terms with Akira, they didn’t have much time to form any significant bond that would give them closer ties. His own concerns had remained with Minato, anyway. Junpei couldn’t even think of a time when Minato had looked so completely, visibly shaken to his core. Not even when they faced the end of the world—Minato had always been the one to stay calm and collected even at the worst times they faced.

And of course, that wasn’t something that only Junpei noticed, which was exactly why Yukari was so quick to pull him and Aigis out of that tense room. She practically dragged both of them by the wrist until they were outside in the quiet alleys of Yongen-Jaya.

“Geez… Aigis wasn’t kidding. You really _are_ shaken by this, aren’t you?” The concern dripped from her tone of voice as she released her grip, looking Minato over. Where she let go, Aigis picked up the slack, grasping both of his hands in hers with a steady grip.

“It's broken,” Minato murmured quietly; the girls’ faces both contorted a bit in quiet understanding of his implication.

“Your bond with Akira-san, it is… similar to what happened with us, when—” when Minato chose to seal away Nyx, Aigis began to note, but the statement was cut abruptly by an interruption from Yukari.

“ _Anyway,_ how about I give Akihiko-senpai a call? He should still be at the station, maybe he can just check up on things.”

She knew it likely wasn’t possible, though she had to try. Yukari had heard Akihiko’s complaints more than once about the level of corruption that existed within the system; he was an advocate for change, but he didn’t have the clout to enact any changes with his current position in the force. Many things were kept heavily under wraps, and someone as justice-driven as him was often kept well out of the loop of the more unsavory practices that went on under his nose. But if they stopped trying now, she thought, they’d be doing little more than letting their leader down. He had done so much for them—more than any of them could ever repay, and in many ways, Yukari felt she owed it to him to help when she could. Both because he deserved someone doing for him similar to what he’d done for all of them, and to compensate for her past selfishness—even if Minato had never been truly aware of what transpired in his absence.

For his part, though, Minato didn’t want what Yukari was offering. He didn’t really want what Aigis was offering, either. He drew back to take control of his hands as he shoved them into his pockets and shook his head. It dipped a little; he’d learned from Akira that the best way to mask expressions that were impossible to hide was to divert in this way.

“Let’s go back inside. Ann-chan, Yusuke-kun, Ryuji-kun… they need us right now.”

It was just like Minato to say that. Even though he could feel his entire world being shaken by that twisting feeling, even though his heart felt like someone was squeezing it to force it into bursting, even if that knot in his stomach told him that no good was going to come from this situation—he had to put everyone else first. Akira’s teammates needed support. They were the ones who had come up with this plan; there was no doubt that if something went as wrong as Minato was suspecting, they would feel an immense amount of guilt over sending their leader to a danger they couldn’t stop. Ultimately, it had been Akira’s choice though, and he’d _wanted_ to carry out this plan. So Minato…

Minato knew that he had to put his own feelings aside for the sake of a team that was worried about the center of their phantom thievery, the center of a huge part of their world, the person who had helped them break out of their shells and expectations to grow as people.

He didn’t give Yukari or Aigis a chance to argue before he turned his back on them to step back into Leblanc; the two exchanged worried glances with the knowing that this was bad in every respect. All they could do, though, was follow him back inside. The Phantom Thieves present were processing Junpei’s explanation, considering their options, denials, and self-blame. But as the bells on the door chimed along with Minato’s entrance, the silence that fell over the room was almost deafening. Nobody spoke another word as Minato sat back down next to Ann; his hands remained in his pockets, gaze obscured by the hair that he let fall over his eyes.

“Whatever happens, you’re not allowed to blame yourselves,” Minato was quiet, but firm. The tone he took wasn’t that of a worried boyfriend, or a concerned friend. It was that of a leader, that of someone who had faced death head-on and won. Minato was a person who defied fate, and he wanted to believe that despite this, Akira could defy fate too. He wanted to believe it, but more importantly, he needed Akira’s _team_ to believe it. “Akira… wouldn’t want anyone to blame themselves for his choices. No matter what… he doesn’t do things he’ll regret.”

Those words were ones Minato believed completely. Akira wouldn’t stand for his friends carrying his burdens, and he wouldn’t have done this at all if he didn’t think it was the best course of action for them. No matter how much Minato had hated the plan, it never stopped him from trusting in Akira’s judgment, it never stopped him from believing that if anyone could succeed, it would be him. And much as he hated to admit it, he also knew that if Akira really had failed, he’d probably find a way to haunt them from beyond the grave if they spent too much time blaming themselves.

Or at least, that was what Minato tried to tell himself.

The feeling of that bond being shattered and severed was one he didn’t want to believe. It harkened back to Shinjiro, and to Akinari as well. But even those had been different, as if there was some intrinsic link that differed in their bonds; maybe it had been because Minato had offered his heart to Akira in a way that he would never have with the others, but it stung. Conscious thought told him to have more faith. Conscious thought told him that Akira’s decisions were his own. Subconscious thought desperately lacked hope, and felt regret that he sat by and let Akira carry out this reckless plan.

There wasn’t a lot to say after that. The room remained largely quiet and tense as they waited for something. Silence permeated the air, weighing heavily on them; texts exchanged between their group and those waiting with Futaba grew increasingly anxious and impatient. Minutes began to feel like hours, and Minato’s already shaken resolve was beginning to waver with each passing second. Everyone had reason to worry, and despite Minato’s (unconvincing, at that moment) words, nobody could shake the fact that there was something very wrong with the situation. Even with the delays in interrogation, they were getting to a point where they absolutely should have heard _something_ , and yet there was little more than radio silence between them and _anyone_ that could have given them an update.

So when the door to Leblanc opened, when the ball chimed—nobody was sure what to expect, truthfully. It couldn’t have been Akira, because they would have heard from him in some respect before he’d come waltzing through the door. It couldn’t have been Futaba or the others, because they had a plan in place to send a text when the mission was properly underway. Sojiro had left them to their own devices to wait things out, and the café was closed for that purpose.

Or… they had believed that would be the case, at least.

Sojiro entered first, and behind him was Sae; both solemn and quiet, with brows drawn together—it was as foreboding as everything else that had led up to the moment they were presently in. In Sae’s hand was crumpled fabric, held at her right side and partially obscured by her form.

No words were spoken, not at first.

“Makoto and the others will be here in a moment,” Sae offered as an only explanation from the door; the others accepted that easily. Perhaps because they knew it was only right for all of the Phantom Thieves to be present for whatever it was they were going to say. Or perhaps because none of them were quite ready to have fears confirmed, or to know for certain why both of the adults had such grim expressions.

None of them, save for Minato.

“Niijima-san,” Minato lifted his head and allowed his gaze to shift in her direction. His expression was a bit hardened, worry and dread masked behind a fierce refusal to back down from getting an answer. Maybe it would have been better to wait the few minutes for the others to arrive, but Minato’s long and patient fuse had burned out. He wanted _answers_ , and he wanted them immediately. “That—it’s… a Shujin blazer, isn’t it?”

Though Minato’s gaze didn’t falter, Sae’s did. She was quick to avert her eyes, as if there was some sense of guilt for what she was about to say. “You’re sharp.”

The words spilled from her mouth quietly; she couldn’t deny that despite holding it away from them, Minato had a keen enough eye to recognize it. Maybe that wasn’t too surprising, considering he was sitting around with other Shujin students, awaiting news on another from that school. Yet still, that didn’t make it any easier for her. Though she intended to wait for Makoto and the others to arrive, her own keen senses told her that making Minato wait would only exacerbate the situation. So instead, she straightened her shoulders and made her way to the table where the kids sat, placing down the blazer gently on the table.

It wasn’t pretty. Despite the dark color of the fabric, it was easy to see that the blazer had blood and other matter spilled on it; much concentrated over one shoulder, but splatters over other parts of the fabric indicated that it wasn’t exactly a clean blow.

“Something hadn’t sat right with me,” Sae began to explain. “Outlandish as his story was, I couldn’t shake the feeling he wasn’t lying. I thought perhaps it was the drugs altering his story—”

She continued on for a moment, but Minato tuned out her voice for a long moment as soon as Sae said that. _Drugs? They… had drugged him?_

...Their plan would have been put into disarray if they had drugged him. Not a single one of them, not even Minato himself, could have anticipated that the cops would do something so low as to alter his state of mind and actively impair him from giving a proper testimony. In his pockets, Minato clenched his fists as he tried to refocus his attention on what Sae was explaining to them.

“—appeared to be a suicide.”

_A suicide._

**_A suicide._ **

Sae turned away from the table as everyone took a moment to let the news sink in. If it appeared to be a suicide… then Akira, he—

“No, it’s, it can’t be…” Ann seemed to breathlessly choke the words out as tears filled her eyes. None of the other Phantom Thieves present seemed to be faring any better.

“That _bastard!_ ” Ryuji cried out in an effort to finish Ann’s broken sentence; he too seemed to shatter at the news. He pulled an arm up over his eyes in an effort to bury his face into the crook of his elbow to mask his own tears. “Akira wouldn’t, he—”

“I know,” Sae cut through his words before Ryuji could say more, before Yusuke could respond as well. “Impaired as he was, his implications were strong. If Goro Akechi is truly behind this as I suspect, I’ll need the cooperation of Kurusu's cohorts in order to bring him to justice.”

Most of what transpired in those moments never connected with Minato. While everyone else reacted emotionally—even Yukari, Junpei and Aigis seemed to react to the news, while they tried to reconcile what happened and decide if it would be safe to sell themselves out to Sae properlys—Minato sat there, almost completely catatonic. It was as if his brain couldn’t play catch-up to the news, that as his heart sunk into his stomach, the only thing he could listen for was some kind of punchline. A _‘just kidding,’_ or a phone call from Akira saying that he managed to dupe everyone.

But a phone call like that wasn’t coming.

And while everyone else had reacted emotionally, while even Sojiro seemed to keep his back turned to mask his tears, Minato did nothing. His expression didn’t shift from that of someone who had their world completely shattered. There were no tears, there was _nothing._ It was an emptiness, an abyss, a chasm that his heart was forming, one that nothing was going to be able to fill. And as Makoto, Futaba and Haru (with Morgana in her arms) walked through the door, Minato made his only move. Silent, he pushed himself from the seat at the booth, brushing past them to go stand outside. And once there, under a sunset that felt _ugly_ , he crashed against the brickwork of the building. He drew in breaths and tried to push down the bile that rose in his throat. He felt sick. He felt like _he_ was the one dying, and he didn’t even feel that awful when he actually _did_ die.

Akira was gone.

There was no bringing him back now. And Minato… Minato wasn’t sure at all what would come next.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

  
  
Eventually, everyone parted ways. Sojiro had to carry Futaba home. Morgana and Haru went with Makoto and Sae to the Niijima household.  Ryuji, Ann and Yusuke decided to stay the night at Ann’s; not a single one of them really wanted to be alone.

Except for Minato. Despite urgings from them, despite the ones that came from Yukari, Junpei and Aigis, Minato had sent them all away. Though he was someone who cared deeply for his bonds, for his friends, and though he knew it was a time he needed to rely on them, Minato needed personal space. He needed time to process the loss, because in the past, he was never granted that sort of space. When Shinjiro died, they still had school, they still had Full Moon Shadows. They still had the Dark Hour and Tartarus. It was much the same when Akinari’s life had come to and end. And with his own… well, Minato made peace with it, but that had been a matter that was entirely his own. The situation was still dire, but his connection to Akira had been different. Minato had never loved anyone the way he loved Akira. Nobody else had gotten Minato to open his heart, to make him feel those things. Even though he’d loved all of his friends, even if he’d had fledgling feelings of romance for some of them at different points in his life, it had never been like it was with Akira. Akira Kurusu had come into his life like a hurricane. It was chaotic and sometimes messy, but it was memorable and shook him to his core in a way that while dangerous, he’d found he rather _liked._

And that had been taken away from him. Once again, he’d failed to protect someone important to him. Once again, someone he’d come to love with the whole of his heart was no longer of this world. He’d closed his heart off in so many ways on that night when he was six. The night that death came for his parents, the night that death had been sealed away in him. Akira had changed that, and just as Akira had opened his own heart and trusted Minato in so many ways, Minato had done the same. It wasn’t that Minato couldn’t live without Akira. He could. He didn’t want to, but he knew that he couldn’t give up on life and live the way he once had just because of that loss. He wasn’t that person anymore, who could apathetically carry on just because he had to. That had been changed, not just by Akira, but all of his friends, his bonds, his Social Links that had made him love life and what the world had to offer.

But still, it hurt.

And yet still, he didn’t know how to deal with that hurt. Hope wasn’t easy to come by when knowing that happiness was that fleeting. And despite the misery he felt, Minato still felt like he was a broken person. As if his emotions had still been too dulled from that prior apathy, because no tears came.

His eyes were dry.

Though everyone had left, Minato had chosen to stay at Leblanc that night. Sojiro hadn’t been in a position to argue, and Minato had dug his heels in, having wanted to embrace the last of Akira’s presence that would exist in the world. He sat at the edge of Akira’s flimsy bed, Shujin blazer clutched tightly in his hands. He didn’t care that it was covered in blood. He didn’t care that it was a mess. He didn’t care that it didn’t even smell like Akira’s anymore, because the almost metallic smell of dried blood was what took precedence. He still held it to his face and breathed it in, as if somehow that would change things. As if somehow, it would trigger an emotion and let him concede to his feelings.

That wasn’t what happened, though.

As Minato remained in that position, unmoving, he felt something else entirely. A warm breeze that enveloped him almost nonsensically. It was a cold November night, and the heater wasn’t on—it was a strange anomaly that made no sense until two things happened.

The first was the scent that wafted up his nose. Familiar, sweet, and yet still with the bitterness of coffee and spice of curry. Warm and nostalgic.

The second was like a whisper on the wind. Right into his ear, somehow a familar sound as well, with words distinct enough to make out as ‘ _I’m sorry.’_

Minato knew what it was. Somehow… somehow, it was Akira. That scent, those words that had no real voice, the way the warmth enveloped him in the way Akira would often hug him from behind while he was preparing dinner for them both. Akira…

He was saying goodbye.

And that was the moment that the dam broke. Minato’s head dipped, buried deep into the blazer as the tears that refused to come earlier finally spilled. His shoulders quaked, and he knew that the last time he had actually cried like this _was_ when his parents died all those years ago. Akira was a cunning bastard, he couldn’t even die without making a spectacle of it. It hurt, it made Minato’s chest hurt. It was hard to breathe, and his throat felt raw. It was painful, but even still, the warmth remained and he felt appreciative that this cunning bastard still found a way to apologize for it.

“Akira,” he murmured quietly, but there was nothing to say. He didn’t even know if Akira could hear him. Really, he didn’t even know if he was going crazy. This shouldn’t have been possible, but yet… it was happening. Minato was sure that this warmth and this scent were absolutely Akira. There was no mistaking it.

Another whisper came, one that said _“Take care of them for me.”_

A third followed, one that was much less distinct, but Minato knew exactly what it meant. The words faded, indistinct as the warmth slowly dissipated around him.

The were the warmest words he’d ever heard in his life. Words Akira had never said, words they both neglected to say because of their own comfort and boundaries. Things they both knew existed, feelings they shared but never used words to express, because actions had always done the job for them in spades. But Akira’s final goodbye came with it, and Minato knew he had to lift his head. Though his cheeks were tear-stained, he knew that he wouldn’t cry again over this. No more for Akira. That obviously wasn’t what he wanted.

 “I love you,” Minato murmured against the blazer; he still desperately sought the familiar scent of Akira that was fading away, but he knew it wouldn’t return. It was a last gift, in a sense. And so Minato could only offer returning his own sentiment, returning those words as well in the hopes that wherever Akira’s soul may have been, it would hear those words.

There was something else, as well. Another promise he had to make, one he would be sure to keep.

“I’ll take care of them. I’ll… lead the Phantom Thieves and stop this for good.” He would do it in his own way. He couldn’t be Akira. He couldn’t be Joker. Minato knew that, and he would never even try to be a replacement. But Minato had his own agenda now. He had a resolve. He had a reason to keep fighting—to stop Akechi and whoever he was working for. To bring Akira to justice. To give the Phantom Thieves the type of closure that they wouldn’t be able to get without someone to guide them. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he might miss Akira—

Minato knew what he had to do.

What he didn’t know, was that his own rebellion had taken hold in his heart. What he didn’t know what that Akira had unintentionally awakened a side of him he didn’t know could exist. What he’d learn, when the time was right, was that Minato himself would truly become a Phantom Thief as well, and harness that rebellion and what remained in him of Akira’s spirit to finish the job that Akira himself would never be able to finish now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, big thanks to NemiruTami for always inspiring me to explore new things by way of amazing art. There was a lot of winging it here, but I hope I was able to convey the right tone to match the art that inspired it!


End file.
